It's getting hot in the kitchen and it's not the ovens
by iheartgordon
Summary: It's time for yet another season of Gordon Ramsay's Hell's Kitchen and as it turns out, some contestants would do anything to make it to the top.
1. Chapter 1

For legal purposes I do have to stress that this is not really a Gordon Ramsay fanfiction, it's a Chef Ramsay fanfiction. Chef Ramsay is Gordon Ramsay's fictional stage persona, Gordon's nothing like Chef Ramsay in real life. I did not invent Chef Ramsay, Hell's Kitchen, yadda yadda, just the events. Keep that in mind while reading. Enjoy!

English is not my native language so there might be some grammatical errors in there somewhere. Oh well.

* * *

Here it was: the culmination of my life-long culinary dreams. My one chance to make it or break it big time. I'd been chosen as one of the 16 chef hopefuls on the next season of Gordon Ramsay's famed Hell's Kitchen. I wasn't too keen on appearing on a popular television show but I'd decided that not even the very real possibility of embarrassing myself in front of millions of people world-wide was going to stop me from reaching for my dream.

I'd finished packing up my things weeks before my flight. I was both enormously excited and downright terrified of what was to come. To prepare myself for the ordeal, I'd made it my mission to watch every single episode of both Hell's Kitchen as well as every other cooking program Gordon Ramsay had appeared on. My poor TiVo was overflowing with this smug bastard. I must admit, given Chef Ramsay's reputation I was slightly apprehensive of him and of the events to come.

He had a certain vibe to him that I could not quite describe. Mostly I was repulsed by his arrogance and blunt sexism. On the other hand I was impressed by how he immediately took control of any situation. It always felt like he owned his surroundings and even the people around him. Even though I'd never admit it to anyone, there was something very attractive about his assertiveness.

As soon as we arrived in L.A., we were carted off to the studio kitchen and the adjoining dorms where we would be spending the next five weeks. We dropped off our belongings, changed our clothes and then we were off to the kitchens. And then we waited. And waited. And waited. After what felt like an eternity, the door suddenly burst open. Applause. There he was, mister Gordon Ramsay himself. Always a flashy entrance.

I was surprised by his physique, the television really does no justice to him. He was much taller than I'd imagined him to be. On TV he always seemed so… Minuscule. In reality he was a tall, towering man with broad shoulders. He had the body of a triathlete. I felt intimidated by his sheer presence – and he hadn't even opened his mouth yet.

Otherwise he was just as I'd pictured him to be, just as he was on TV. Years and years of high-stress work had left its mark on him; his forehead was deeply cut by wrinkles. His deep-blue eyes were dark and passionate, he was clearly very excited. His hair was gorgeous, impeccable as always, and he had his trusty #2 pencil carefully tucked behind his left ear. He had said something, presumably to greet us and welcome us but I was so deafened by my own nervousness that I could only see his mouth moving. His teeth were blindingly white against his golden glowing skin.

This is it, I thought, it begins. Bring it on.


	2. Chapter 2

The first day went by in a daze. As always, we were split into two teams: the women's red team and the men's blue team. Our first challenge was to cook our signature dishes. Regardless of the quality of our cooking, as some sort of a twisted initiation rite we all got our fair share of the famed Ramsay treatment – according to Chef Ramsay we were, among various other insults, wastes of oxygen and he would not feed our food to even his dog. But that was to be expected; he had a certain image to live up to, after all.

The blue team emerged victorious from the signature dish challenge and the boys were rewarded a luxurious day away from the kitchen. The girls were stuck cleaning and prepping for dinner service. We were fuming and hell-bent on winning the dinner service to avoid elimination. No such luck. We couldn't get any entrees out as they kept getting rejected by Chef Ramsay. Raw, overcooked, raw, too salty… Something was wrong with every single dish. We let even our own expectations down, not to mention Chef Ramsay's. Our kitchen was shut down and in the end, one of us was sent home.

Upon our return at the dorms after dinner service, the boys told us about their day off with Chef Ramsay and spoke of the mysterious "Gordon" who was nothing at all like they'd expected. Apparently Chef Ramsay had revealed his soft side to the boys and the girls were green with envy. All we ever got was screaming, swearing and damn near assault. We did, however, get to spend quality time with Maître d' Jean-Philippe Susilovic, that mercilessly handsome and almost painfully polite piece of Belgian eye candy. There wasn't a woman (and few men) in the house who would not have loved some alone time with JP.

In the kitchen we were quickly settling into a routine. Our days there always followed the same pattern: in the mornings and early afternoons we'd have skill tests, which led to either rewards or punishments. The men constantly outshined the women and we were stuck cleaning, ironing, mopping, prepping and God only knows what other grueling tasks Chef Ramsay would come up with as punishment. Meanwhile, the boys enjoyed their time off with "Gordon". The thing that mostly annoyed me was that I had never seen Chef Ramsay's soft side. I'd been yelled at, humiliated, made feel stupid and insignificant, been thrown out of the kitchen in the middle of dinner service, punished and called all imaginable names possible. Who was this elusive "Gordon" and would I ever get the chance to meet him?


	3. Chapter 3

Turns out my chance came quicker than I'd ever expected. The very next day we had our worst dinner service yet. It seemed like we could not get anything done right and in the end, we had our kitchen shut down yet again. I had had a particularly bad service: I'd undercooked the tilapia (I doubt I will ever be able to forget Chef Ramsay's face as he's screeching "It's fucking _raw_, RAW, RAW, RAW!" at me) and overcooked the scallops (not to mention the "It should feel like the tip of my _dick_!" – Well, Gordy, I've never felt your dick but I think I know what a damn scallop should feel like when it's properly cooked…).

After getting kicked out of the kitchen the red team went up to the dorms to wait for the elimination which was sure to fall on our team yet again. And sure enough, it did. Unsurprisingly this time it was my turn to be nominated, along with another girl. As we gathered in front of the kitchens, he stood a good 10 feet away from us. Despite the distance, his roaring voice filled the entire room. As our names were called, we stepped up to Chef Ramsay. I stood directly in front of him and just watched him in awe. He was fuming mad, his face red with fury. As he turned to look at me his eyes burned with such absolute intensity that could only be described as hellfire. Despite his frightening, soul-crushing stare, there was something oddly alluring in his eyes.

Chef Ramsay gave us both a chance to plead our case and try to convince him to keep us in the fight. I guess he saw something in me as he spared me and kicked off Marie. I sighed of relief; I'd live to see another day.

After the elimination was over, we left the kitchen to go up to the dorms. I lagged behind and went off around the corner for a rare luxury – a solitary smoke to calm my nerves. I hadn't smoked since my teens but the stress of Hell's Kitchen had made me pick up my old vice again. I needed to be alone and to clear my head before entering the apartment again. A smoke break was innocent enough to avoid raising suspicion.

As I was puffing on my cigarette I heard a familiar voice call my name. I turned around and saw Chef Ramsay standing next to me. He had a serious look on his face. I could not quite place the look; for a change there was no anger in his eyes, just disdain and a hint of… Concern? Could it be true? He was speaking in a calm, slow tone, a tone which I'd never heard coming from his mouth before. He told me I'd narrowly escaped getting kicked off and asked me if I think I'd deserved to stay on. I told him I still had plenty to prove and thanked him for keeping me around.

After our quick chat Chef Ramsay suddenly extended his arm and rested it on my shoulder. This was definitely something unexpected. Such behavior was unheard of in the kitchen. I was confused but excited at the same time – Was I finally going to meet "Gordon"? He could see I was a little unsure of how to react so he pulled me closer to him and gave me a proper hug. His white chef's jacket smelled of garlic, olive oil and those damned scallops. Underneath the food aromas I could sense a faint whiff of musky cologne. He smelled warm, comforting. I breathed in his scent and felt myself instantly relaxing. I needed the de-stressing so I made no move to get away from him. Neither did he. As I snapped out of my daydream, to my horror I realized I'd been gently stroking his hair. Flustered, I pulled away from him and began to desperately assemble words together for an apology. He just looked at me with a sly half-smile on his face. He was clearly enjoying my embarrassment.

As I was breaking off the hug, Chef Ramsay grabbed my arm and gave me a stern look, as if to say I'm not going anywhere. I felt a slight panic wash over me. At this point Chef Ramsay realized he was about to cross a line and let my arm go.

"Good night", he said with the same sly smile, "I'll see you tomorrow."

I gave him a confused nod and shuffled off to the dorms. What just happened?


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning we were woken up at an ungodly hour and called down into the kitchens. It was time for the dreaded blind taste test. I was pretty confident in my palate and thought this time we might actually have a chance of winning a challenge. Sure enough, we nailed it. Ingredient after ingredient after ingredient was guessed correctly. Even the fiendish liquorice root didn't faze us. So there we were: the red team, victorious at last. Finally it was our turn to meet "Gordon"!

We quickly went up to the dorms and dolled ourselves up as pretty as we could. The transformation was amazing; we all looked nearly unrecognizable in our pretty dresses, makeup and high heels. After a quick flirt with JP we went out and waited for our limousine to pick us up. A short while later the long, slick black limo arrived and the driver opened the door for us. To our surprise Chef Ramsay was already sitting inside waiting for us with champagne on ice. It was refreshing to see him in casual attire, dressed in a tight black t-shirt and jeans. He oozed style. The girls all rushed to climb in, fighting for the two spots on each side of Chef Ramsay. I entered the car last to make sure I'd not be sitting next to him. The last thing I wanted was yet another awkward encounter with him.

The limousine took us for lunch to Ortega 120. We had excellent wine with even more excellent food and Gordon entertained us the whole time. Finally we had our chance to get to know his soft side. The boys weren't lying, underneath the chef's jacket he proved to be an absolutely charming gentleman. Too bad my experience of him had already been tarnished by our previous encounter and to avoid further dissonance I kept my distance from during the entire lunch, avoiding eye contact with Chef Ramsay.

After a fantastic lunch we went back to the dorms, changed back into our chef gear, grabbed our recipe books and went down into the kitchens. Time for yet another dinner service. I guess Chef Ramsay had noticed my distance at lunch since he singled me out during the entire dinner service. I was back to cooking scallops again and I knew I needed to prove myself or else this time he would kick me off for sure. To my frustration I could feel my cheeks turn red with each of his insults. To my horror I realized it was turning me on. I'd been away from any sort of sexual contact for so long that even Chef Ramsay's belittling and angry screams were translated as exciting by my sexually overcharged brain.

I paid special attention to every single scallop I put out and Chef Ramsay was pleased with the results.

"This feels oddly sexual, it's like I'm touching myself! Here, touch this and you'll see what you're missing!" he commented.

I quickly brushed it off and continued cooking. Inside, I was reaching my boiling point. Was he trying to sabotage me? I managed to regain control of myself and was glad to find I'd successfully fought off the quickly approaching loss of nerves. However, despite my best efforts we still lost to the guys. I was defeated – I gave it my best and I was still not good enough. However, I did do a good enough job to avoid elimination. Instead, I watched my best friend on the show get booted off. I was devastated.

Despite my devastation my topmost feeling was anger. I would not tolerate Chef Ramsay's sexually suggestive behavior any longer. After the others had gone back to the dorms, I asked Chef Ramsay if I could have a word with him alone. Once the cameras were turned off I followed Chef Ramsay upstairs into his private office. He held the door open for me and I could hear him locking it behind me. I felt chills up my spine.

Immediately after the door was closed, I stepped closer to Chef Ramsay and told him that he was out of line and that he needed to stop. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave me an ominous look. I felt the familiar feeling of panic wash over me yet again.

"You do realize this is my fucking show, right?" he asked, smirking. "That means I do whatever the _fuck_ I want."

I felt my stomach turn.

"Why have you chosen me as your target? Why _me_?"

"I quite fancy you. You've got spunk."

I felt sick to my stomach now. He analyzed me with his piercing blue eyes.

"I'll take great joy in toying with you."

My heart sank. I was terrified. I quickly turned to walk out the door, off the set, out of this godforsaken city altogether. However, Chef Ramsay was quicker than me and grabbed my arm yet again. I got a horrifying feeling that this time he wasn't going to let me go. Even more horrifying was the realization that I didn't want to be let go.


	5. Chapter 5

"What's the hurry? We've still got plenty to discuss." Chef Ramsay said as he stood directly in front of me with his arms folded across his chest. He was blocking the only exit.

I looked at him in shock, not knowing what to say. He pulled my arm and drew me close to him. This time I could smell his cologne much stronger. He let go of my arm. I was still too shocked to move. What was happening to me? Why was I not screaming for help, why was I not running away? As he looked at me with the same enormous intensity as always, I realized that all the times I thought he'd looked at me in anger had actually been in lust. Lust spurred on by my helplessness. He was clearly enjoying his dominant position over me. I was shivering with fear. My heart was racing. What was he going to do to me? I quickly found out as he pulled me in tight and shoved his tongue down my throat. I tried to push him off to no avail. He was simply too strong. He began to unbutton my chef's jacket and proceeded to shove his hands under my t-shirt. To his delight I wasn't wearing a bra. To his disappointment my chest was nearly flat.

"I've got a little boy at home who has bigger tits than you," he said, laughing.

Though I was hurt, I decided not to show it to him and kept my mouth shut. My head kept screaming to my body to fight, to scream, to run away, but my body refused to listen. I could feel myself getting aroused. What the hell was this? I'm not supposed to be enjoying this! What's going on?

He continued to assault my mouth with his tongue while unbuttoning his jeans. He grabbed my hand and shoved it in his pants. I could feel his dick swelling up. "Wow, so that's where his ego stems from," I thought. "Holy shit! Big Boy indeed…" As I touched Chef Ramsay's dick he gasped and groaned softly. He was clearly enjoying my touch and it turned me on. I grabbed his dick and began to stroke it through his boxers. His knees gave out and he faltered slightly on his legs. I dropped to my knees and began to pull his penis out of his boxers. Suddenly he grabbed my hair and pulled me up.

"Did I give you permission to do that?" he scolded me.

I was getting flustered again and I could feel my cheeks turn red. At the same time I felt a familiar tingle between my legs.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

"You're sorry _what_," he demanded.

"I'm sorry, _Chef_," I corrected myself.

"That's better. Now continue."

Like a good girl, I did as I was told. I took his throbbing dick, pulled his foreskin off the tip and licked his dick slowly. It really did feel like a cooked scallop! I started to suck him gently, which I guess wasn't up to par by his standards. He grabbed my head and rammed his enormous dick down my throat. My gag reflex kicked in. I couldn't breathe; his dick was blocking my airway. He continued to thrust. My eyes were watering, which he took as a sign to keep going. Harder. Faster. He was jackhammering my throat by now. I tried to push him off, which made him mad. He stopped, pulled his dick out and grabbed my hair. As I struggled to catch my breath, he pulled my tear-stained face close to his and hissed at me to behave. I obeyed. He continued, slightly lighter this time. He bucked and pushed my face hard into his groin. As his whole body tensed up, I prepared myself for the inevitable finale. He continued to steadily ram himself down my throat. As his grip on my head tightened, with a low groan he sprayed the back of my throat with thick, warm cum. I swallowed the bitter fluid and looked Chef Ramsay in the eyes.

"Did you swallow?" I nodded. "Good girl. Now clean yourself off and get out."

Stunned, I wiped my face with a tissue and walked out of his office. On my way back to the dorms I realized I could still taste him in my mouth. I couldn't help but smile.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day I was mortified to walk down into the kitchens. What would happen now? How would he act around me? How should I act around him? I decided to act casual, as if nothing had happened. To my disappointment, so did he. He was so annoyingly blasé, I felt like our encounter last night had meant nothing. I felt a cold sensation in my heart when I realized that it probably really hadn't meant a thing to him. After all, he was supposedly Family Man of the year with his gorgeous wife and 4 lovely kids. What would a man like him want from a girl like me? Sexual gratification, plain and simple. I was his living, breathing sex doll. The thought excited me. I wanted to please him. I would have done anything he asked. Even though I had already been headed down this path since the moment I first set my foot in his kitchen, now was the first time I consciously thought about fully submitting myself to Chef Ramsay.

Despite things having turned physical with my mentor, I continued with my chef training. My absences were starting to get noticed and I was finding it increasingly difficult to explain them to the other competitors. I knew soon it would be only a matter of time before someone put two and two together. Even though the general atmosphere had not changed, I could feel the change in me. Now every time Chef Ramsay scolded me, I got instantly turned on. Too bad Chef Ramsay noticed it too and scolded me even more than normal, the sick bastard. Even though there was nothing sexual in our on-camera interaction, there was an incredible amount of invisible tension. I don't know if the others noticed it, but I could tell Chef Ramsay did. And he rather enjoyed torturing me with it.

Over the next few days we continued our secret romps. Chef Ramsay's private office, being the only secluded place with a lock on the door, became our love nest. After the cameras were turned off, I often headed into his office to continue with my obedience training. Chef Ramsay was a born Dom, he didn't have a single submissive fiber in his body. Everything came so naturally to him, he never had to think very hard of tasks for me to do or how to punish me if I didn't do them. I'd grown to love his ego, his arrogance and his absolute domination. He was in charge and he made sure I never once forgot it.

He loved belittling me, especially over my small breasts. He joked that touching me was turning him gay. He had the sharpest tongue of anyone I'd ever met. He was brilliant at finding someone's weak spots and stabbing them where it hurt the most. I couldn't believe I was attracted to this nasty, disrespectful person. I couldn't believe I was letting him do the things he did to me. In my previous relationships I'd always been strong, fiercely independent. Now I had no control, not even over my own body. I was property; property of Chef Ramsay. And he knew it.


	7. Chapter 7

As the competition progressed, the red team got stronger and stronger. We were winning challenge after challenge and our spirits were high. As we were enjoying our glorious rewards we were getting cozier with Chef Ramsay. During our reward trips he flirted openly with the other girls. I knew he was doing this to upset me and it was working. I wanted to tell everyone to keep their slutty hands off Chef Ramsay, but of course I couldn't do that. I just had to sit and endure the torture. And as I would soon find out, there was more torture to come.

As we returned from yet another reward excursion, I returned to the dorms to find a package on my bed. Apart from my name it had no markings on it. I took the package with me to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I sat down on the edge of the bathtub and opened the package. On the inside I found a small bag made of black velvet and a note saying "Wear these tonight". I closed my eyes and paused for a moment. I was sure I did not want to see the contents of the bag.

With shaky hands I untied the ribbon and shook the bag's contents into my hand. A string of three small steel spheres with a loop at the end. I knew exactly what these were. Geisha balls. I sighed of relief. It could have been worse.

Before dinner service, I quickly slid the balls inside of me, leaving the loop dangling out. I pulled my panties on and focused on tensing my pelvic floor muscles. As I silently prayed the balls would stay inside, I realized it was going to be a long service tonight.

In the beginning I found it quite easy to keep a nice grip on my PC muscles, but I soon realized the constant rubbing was making me very wet. The wetness, in turn, made it difficult to hold on to the balls, which caused even more rubbing. The torment of this vicious circle was interrupted when Chef Ramsay started to scream at me over some insignificant matter. At this point I was squirming in discomfort.

"Hey, you," he called, "Come here!"

He took me around the corner and whispered to me to ask if the balls were in.

"Yes," I whispered back, "But I don't think they will be for much longer. They're causing some… Moisture issues."

Chef Ramsay looked at me with a confused look on his face.

"What are you talking about? Moisture? Wait… _Where_ did you put them?"

Oh. Fuck. I realized my mistake. Not geisha balls, anal beads.

"Hey, Madam!" he hissed, "Queen Plonker! Wrong hole, you idiot!"

He stormed off back into the kitchen and I waddled into the bathroom to remove the beads.


	8. Chapter 8

As we were cleaning up after dinner service, Chef Ramsay quickly whispered in my ear, "Stay here." I knew I was about to be punished.

As we finished up, I told the others I'd take the dirty jackets to the washing machine so they'd be fresh in the morning. As I was loading the machine, I heard Chef Ramsay's voice behind me.

"Are you mentally handicapped? Retarded? Just plain stupid?" he scowled, "Or do you really not know the function of those things?" I didn't bother to explain my mistake.

"You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to show you where those things go. Come!" I felt a cold sweat on my neck.

I followed Chef Ramsay into the kitchen. He told me to wait by the counter as he disappeared into the pantry. He walked up behind me and as I turned my head to see what he'd brought, he grabbed by neck and hissed "No!" into my ear. He unzipped my pants and pulled them down along with my soaked panties. I was facing the counter and he was behind me, his hands rubbing my body down. The beads had left me very turned on. Knowing that Chef Ramsay was about to punish me didn't help either. So as Chef Ramsay started to massage my clitoris, I yelped with pleasure. He immediately stopped and told me to shut up or else someone would hear. He picked up my panties and bunched them up in a wad. He then stuffed them in my mouth. I gagged. I could hear him pulling down his own pants and grabbing something off the floor. I heard some kind of a liquid sound and suddenly smelled olives in the air. As Chef Ramsay tenderly pushed two fingers inside of me, I understood what he'd gotten from the pantry. Olive oil.

He continued rubbing my clitoris with his thumb as his other fingers searched for my g-spot. Once he'd found it, he pushed hard. I had to fight the urge to scream. I was on the verge of a mind-shattering orgasm. He kept rubbing me for a while before pulling his fingers out. I was just about to turn around to suck his dick as he grabbed my arms, pinned them to my sides and thrust his dick inside of me. I couldn't hold it anymore. I came harder than ever before. As I climaxed he stopped pounding me. He wrapped his arm around my abdomen, pulled my body close to his and just rubbed my clitoris gently.

After my orgasm I spit the panties out of my mouth and turned around.

"You think I'm finished? I haven't even gotten started," Chef Ramsay said with a sadistic smile on his face.

He fished around my pockets until he found what he was searching for: the beads. He grabbed the bottle of olive oil and slathered a generous amount of oil on the beads.

"Turn around," he said with a stern, expectant look on his face. I complied.

He pushed the first bead in gently. As it had disappeared out of sight, he pushed another one in. And another. After the last bead he tugged on the loop lightly, making sure the beads were secure. Satisfied with his handywork he continued to hammer me from behind. After a while his body started to tense up again. I knew he was getting close. To my surprise he quickly pulled out of me. He pulled out the beads, grabbed my hips and thrust his throbbing dick into my ass. Out of sheer surprise my body tensed up. Based on his low grunting, Chef Ramsay seemed to be enjoying it so I tensed up my body as hard as I could. His nails dug into my skin as his grip on my hips tightened. He thrust into me a few more times before pushing himself as deep as he could and shooting a load of warm cum deep into my ass.

He collapsed on top of me. His heart was beating furiously. I worried he was going to have a heart attack but instead he pulled out, grabbed a towel and wiped himself clean.

"Be a good girl and toss this in the wash," he said as he handed me the oily towel.

Yes, Chef.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning a stage hand called me at the dorms and told me Chef Ramsay needed to speak with me immediately. I could feel a lump in my throat start to form. What now? I quickly pulled my hair in a messy bun and practically ran out the door. On my way to the kitchens I took a look at what I was wearing – a skin-tight Iggy Pop t-shirt and wrinkly pajama pants. My outfit definitely wasn't the most glamorous I owned but it would have to do.

I knocked on the door of Chef Ramsay's office. He opened the door for me and let me in. He took one look and me and scoffed,

"Jesus, what the fuck are you _wearing_?"

I shrugged my shoulders. Before I had a chance to explain my attire, Chef Ramsay sighed.

"They know about us," he said, with a disappointed look on his face.

"Oh… What's going to happen now?"

"They're afraid of a media shit storm. They told me to get rid of you; otherwise the show will get cancelled. And I'm sure as hell not going to explain _that_ to my wife!"

"So… This is it? I'm gone?"

"Well, face it, darling, it's not like you were going to win anyway. You're really not that great of a cook."

I could feel my heart break. This was my dream, being flushed down the toilet.

"What will happen to us?" I asked, with more fear in my voice than I would have liked.

"I'm risking getting caught cheating _again_ and you're worried about what happens to us?! Holy fuck. Definitely time to break it off."

I was crushed. I'd let my master down and now I would have to leave the competition. Chef Ramsay promised me the editors would make it look inconspicuous, a family emergency of some sort. However, I wasn't very comforted by this. I knew he was just doing some serious damage control to cover his own ass.

I handed Chef Ramsay my chef's jacket and thanked him for my time there. I then went upstairs to the dorms, packed my bag and unceremoniously left the building. I didn't say goodbye to the other contestants as I didn't want to make up some crazy story about fake family drama. I was so disappointed I could have cried.


	10. Chapter 10

I was supposed to leave L.A. in two weeks. My plane ticket was non-returnable and non-exchangeable. I was stuck. A new plane ticket would have cost almost as much (if not more) than accommodation for two weeks so I decided to stick around instead and checked into a cheap hotel. As soon as I got up to my room, I dropped off my bags, changed my clothes, grabbed my sunglasses and wallet and headed out into the city.

I found L.A. to be a horrible place. Being from a small town, I'd already found it difficult to adjust to just Chicago, my current place of residence. But compared to the Windy City, the City of Angels was in a league of its own. Before now I'd never had a chance to really see the city around me. During the competition we commuted solely between the dorms and the kitchen as well as the few scarce outdoor challenge locations and reward excursions. Even during those the contestants were among just each other, and none of us was a native Californian.

What shocked me the most about this city was the amount of fake, vapid, superficial people. They were everywhere. And I thought Chef Ramsay's laser treatments, tooth veneers, hair transplants and fake tan were bad! Life seemed to center around looks here. If you weren't attractive, you were garbage.

I decided to head to Venice Beach. In my toned-down casual outfit of a white t-shirt, gray shorts and sandals, I stuck out like sore thumb from the crowd. I found a quiet little café and sat down. As I was sipping a chai latte my phone beeped. A text message. I hadn't told anyone at home that I'd been kicked off the show yet so there was really no reason for anyone to contact me. Before I left I'd told my friends and family that my phone would be turned off during the entire competition. I checked my phone. The text message had come from an unknown number. The cryptic message included an address, "1024″ and "11 PM". It was signed by GR. My heart skipped a beat. 11 PM could not come soon enough.


	11. Chapter 11

At 11:00 PM sharp, I arrived at the address. Sure enough, it was a posh hotel. I walked up to room 1042 and knocked on the door. I heard the door unlock. I quickly entered the room and closed the door behind me.

"Did anyone see you?" Chef Ramsay asked.

"No… I don't think anyone's interested in following me around," I smiled back at him.

Chef Ramsay was dressed casually. I don't know if it was thanks to a personal stylist or the man himself, but Chef Ramsay always looked superbly stylish. This time was no exception. He was wearing a royal blue button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone. The shirt complimented his skin color amazingly well. To complete the outfit, he had chosen matching dark blue jeans. I felt grossly underdressed in my knee-length floral print dress and roman sandals.

I took off my shoes at the door and looked around the room. His suite was incredible. It had a full kitchen and a balcony with a magnificent view. Off to the side I could see what looked like a cast-iron bed in a massive bedroom. As I was admiring my surroundings, Chef Ramsay walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me. I felt a chill down my spine. This didn't seem right. He swept a strand of my hair away from my face, carefully tucked it behind my ear and gently caressed my cheek. As he kissed my lips tenderly, I felt a warm sensation wrap around me from head to toe. I instantly relaxed. I knew I was in Gordon's arms now.

Gordon poured me a glass of red wine. Something ridiculously expensive, was my guess. Though I wasn't a huge fan of fancy wines (mostly due to the type of people they attracted), I had to admit that this one was delicious.

"Come," he said, motioning me to move over to the couch. I sat down with him.

"What's this? Chef Ramsay being… nice?"

"Oh, come now, I'm not all bad, am I?" he laughed, his eyes lighting up. "I didn't want things to end so suddenly."

As we sat face to face, I studied him closely. For the first time I saw him up close without heavy makeup. His eyes were a stunning shade of blue, his hair an earthy blond with bleached tips. His skin showed his age. His forehead had deep frown lines and the corners of his eyes had crow's feet caused by wide, heartfelt smiling. All his emotions were visible on his face; he clearly wears his heart on his sleeve. His chin was scarred from the laser treatment he'd had to get rid of the deep wrinkles that used to dominate his face. I gently caressed the scars. They made his skin look like it had been burned in an accident. His face was so ruggedly beautiful, wrinkles and scars and all. I silently prayed he would not get any more work done. I never wanted him to change.

He moved closer to me on the couch and rested his hand on my thigh. For the first time I saw kindness in his eyes as some kind of a bizarre schoolboy charm had come over him. It suited him very well.

"You know…" He began, pausing slightly. I could tell he was choosing his words very carefully. "I miss my wife. She's the most amazing woman I know."

I was starting to feel very uncomfortable. I didn't want to hear about his wife, why was he telling me all this?

"I miss touching her. It's not like I can go up to just any random person to get some affection, can I? That would be an absolute PR _nightmare_. Not to mention the hissy fit my wife would have over it! Jesus, I can't even _imagine_…"

Oh. I think I finally understood what was expected of me. I snuggled up to Chef Ramsay, wrapped my arm around him and laid my head on his chest. Though I knew I was nothing more than a surrogate – a placeholder – to him, it felt too good to complain about. This was probably my only chance of receiving any affection from Chef Ramsay; I'd take whatever I could get. I was like a puppy, starved for his attention.

Just as I was starting to enjoy the situation I'd found myself in, he groped my chest. "Honeymoon's over", I thought, "back to business".


	12. Chapter 12

"How's the wine?" Chef Ramsay asked.

"It's perfect, Chef Ra…" I began, only to have him cut me off.

"No… None of that now. Not this time. This time I'm just Gordon."

He smiled at me and moved a bit closer to me on the couch. I smiled and reached my arm around him to caress the back of his head, running my fingers through his luscious hair. I pulled him in for a kiss. As I was kissing him I started to unbutton his shirt. I pulled away from him slightly and took his shirt off. I paused to admire his body. He had broad, muscular shoulders and a defined chest. His skin had a healthy glow: he'd clearly spent some time in the L.A. sun. I gently stroked his shoulders and arms. He was like a statue, a Greek God of sorts.

"I'm dying to take your pants off. Would that be OK?"

With an amused smile on his face he began to unbutton his jeans. As Chef Ramsay undid his pants, I noticed he wasn't wearing any underwear. He could see I was surprised and laughed.

"What? I rarely wear boxers. Going commando is so much more comfortable."

Of course.

After I'd pulled off his pants, I took him by the hand and started to lead him into the bedroom. He stood up but stopped before I could take another step.

"Wait. It's your turn to strip down."

He untied the satin ribbon around my waist, slowly unzipped my dress and pulled it off over my head. After revealing my body, Chef Ramsay stepped back slightly and analyzed me carefully. Even though I was still wearing a bikini, I suddenly felt very naked. He gently ran his fingers down my body, pausing at my waist slightly. Even though my slender body had pretty much no other feminine features, my waist was a perfect hourglass. With one swift movement he pulled at my bikini string and the garment dropped to my ankles. With the same efficiency he took off my bikini top, after which he grabbed my hand and lead my very naked body into the bedroom.


	13. Chapter 13

We lied down on the bed together. I rested my elbow on the bed and propped my head up on my hand. I lovingly gazed at Chef Ramsay as I slowly caressed his body with my fingertips. As I got close to his nipples I could see goosebumps rising up on his skin. He closed his eyes. I kissed his nipple gently and he moaned softly. I continued caressing him. First his ribs, then stomach, around his navel, his hips and down his thigh. His breathing was very deep and steady.

Slowly I made my way south of his navel. His blond pubic hair was neatly trimmed. I gently stroked his shaft. I could feel him twitching in my hand. I grabbed his dick softly and ran my hand up and down. It started to stiffen and swell noticeably. I lifted it up and put it in my mouth. Slowly I started to suck the tip while gently gripping the shaft of it. Chef Ramsay moaned a bit louder as he thrust his hips up slightly.

"No… None of that this time," I said with a sly smile.

"Yes, Madam," he laughed. The roles were reversed.

After a while Chef Ramsay put his hands on my head. Just as I was about to tell him off for being dominant again, he whispered to me and asked me to stop what I was doing.

"Stop. Come here, come kiss me."

I got up and moved next to him on the bed. As we were lying side by side, he held my head tenderly with one hand as he kissed me. His other hand caressed my body. He then took his dick in his hand, stroked it a few times and gently guided it inside of me. I gasped as he entered slowly. He started to thrust into me, never breaking the kiss. His eyes were closed. It wasn't until I gently stroked his face that he opened them. He pulled away from the kiss and continued staring deep into my eyes as he fucked me slowly, all the while holding my face tenderly in his hand. I could have died happy right then and there.

After a while he changed his position and lied on top of me. His body was heavy and smelled of cologne, sweat and plain, naked skin. I pressed my face against his chest and gripped his back. I whispered his name and he started to thrust faster. His dick was at a perfect angle, he stroked my g-spot with every thrust. I soon felt myself getting close.

"Can I cum?" I asked him.

"Of course, you silly twit!" I could feel him laughing at me inside of his head.

I felt the all-too-familiar fluster creep up on me again. After a few more thrusts I only managed to whimper "Yes, Chef" as I came, my body bucking wildly into his. My muscles tightened around his shaft and gripped his dick like a vice.

"Ow! Hey, watch it!" he laughed, snapping me out of my trance. I muttered a quick apology, not meaning a word of what I said.

As Chef Ramsay kept going, I just looked at him in adoration. His eyes were closed again, his lips pursed tightly. His forehead was glistening with sweat. As I ran my fingers through his hair, he opened his eyes again and smiled. He was amazingly beautiful. As he was getting closer he grabbed my arms and pinned them above my head. I knew where this was headed but I didn't care, I'd had enough romance for the night.

He gripped my hands tight and started to thrust faster. Harder. He groaned loudly. It felt like he was trying to split me in half with his dick. Finally his body tensed and he threw his head back. I held my breath as I gripped his dick tight with my muscles. Time seemed to stand still as he was lying on top of me, frozen in ecstasy. I could feel his dick spasm inside of me. He thrust into me shallowly a few more times until he collapsed on top of me in a heaving, huffing mess.

I held him while his breathing steadied. I ran my fingers through his hair and breathed in his scent. I wanted the moment to last forever.


	14. Chapter 14

After we'd both caught our breaths again, Chef Ramsay pulled out of me and rolled over on the bed. I was on my side, facing him. He lay on the bed with his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

"Damn," Chef Ramsay finally uttered.

"Yep."

He turned to face me.

"So… You should probably leave now."

My jaw dropped. I raised my hand, ready to smack him as he curled up in a ball and covered his face in self-protection. He started to laugh.

"I'm kidding! _Jesus_! You've got a temper on you!"

I lowered my hand and gave him a half-hearted nasty look.

"You're such an ass."

We got up and took a quick shower together. After we had dried ourselves off, we got dressed in the complimentary hotel bathrobes.

"I'm starving. Room service?" Chef Ramsay asked.

"You think you'll be able to eat it?" He didn't seem like the guy who would appreciate room service.

"I've been staying at this hotel for three weeks. They know me well enough by now to not bring me sub-par food. I've already been down there once and I made it very clear I'm not going to go down there again."

What an ass, I thought again, smiling to myself.

After we'd finished our dinner, Chef Ramsay went back into the bedroom. As he walked back towards me, he handed a plastic bag to me.

"What's this?" I asked in confusion.

"A little gift. Open it," Chef Ramsay replied.

I took the bag from him and opened it. Inside was my white Hell's Kitchen chef's jacket. It had a gaping hole in the neck where he had impaled it on the hook, like he does with every eliminated contestant. I wondered what he'd said on camera about me. I shivered. This would be the first season of Hell's Kitchen I would not be watching.

As I hugged Chef Ramsay to thank him for the gift, he asked if I still had the text message he'd sent. I nodded. He asked me to delete it. I was apprehensive at first; other than my chef's jacket, it was my only concrete evidence of my time with him. I would have loved to keep the message as a memento. However, I knew it was the phone number he was concerned about. I sighed as I fetched my mobile, flicked through my text messages and deleted the one he'd sent. My memento, along with Chef Ramsay's phone number, was gone forever.

I got up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Chef Ramsay asked with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"To my hotel."

"Why would you do that?"

"Well, it's getting late and I guess you'll want to get to bed soon. I thought I'd save you the embarrassment of having to kick me out of here."

"I'm not sleeping alone tonight. You're not going anywhere."

He wasn't asking anymore. He was telling me. I sighed. Welcome back, Chef Ramsay… And bye-bye, Gordon.

As I was cuddling on the couch with Chef Ramsay, he suddenly got up and headed towards his pile of discarded clothes still lying on the floor. He pulled out his mobile phone. He typed in his security code and hit a few more buttons. I heard a dial tone. Who was he calling?

"Hello my love, how are you?" Oh _shit_. I knew exactly who was on the other end of the phone.

I wasn't too keen on hearing this phone call so I quietly snuck to the bathroom. I felt sick to my stomach. Tana. I hadn't even thought about her during the entire time I'd spend with Chef Ramsay. I felt dirty. I had always looked up to her. How could I do this to her? How could _he_ do this to her? I stepped into the shower even though I knew it would be useless. I doubt this dirty feeling would ever wash off.


End file.
